


Enlightened Hearts: Miroku & Sango ficlets

by paynesgrey



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2005-08-01
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 00:59:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 6,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paynesgrey/pseuds/paynesgrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlets and drabbles centered around Miroku and Sango from the anime/manga series Inuyasha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Warmer than the Sun

Warmer Than the Sun

Miroku closed his eyes and smiled serenely, feeling a cool breeze tickle his skin on a comfortable summer day. His head rested on his wife's lap, and he felt her smooth fingers messaging his temples. Her soft even breaths trickled over him as he enjoyed her touch.

He unconsciously clutched his right hand into a fist, feeling absent of beads and binding. The torrent winds that had simmered within him and had pounded at the gates no longer burdened him. He moved his once cursed hand over his wife's hand as she continued to stroke his temples. She stopped, and then squeezed his hand lovingly. He briefly looked up at her to see her smiling affectionately.

His body stirred in contentment as she smiled for him.

Then he heard footsteps pitter into the ground as his children giggled playfully and jumped over him as a bridge in their game. His wife's chuckling had followed after theirs.

“Miroku,” she whispered lightly. He shivered as she blew teasingly in his ear. He was pleased when she called him that. There were no more “Houshi-samas” as she addressed him, and he had since abandoned his robes after settling down with her. Hearing her say his name with familiarity was an affirmation to the peace they had finally gained.

He was suddenly jarred when one of his children had fallen over his chest to rouse him. He snickered, expecting them to giggle in return.

Instead he felt hands tapping him, and someone began repeating his name like a never-ending echo.

He cracked an eye open, and Shippo stared down at him as he woke. His traveling companions awaited his attention impatiently.

Inuyasha glared at him and then barked with aggravation. “This is no time to be napping, monk. Naraku is still out there, so let's get going.” And like always, he and Kagome turned away as she settled onto his back ready to continue their journey.

He stood up, and Sango waited for him to get onto Kirara. Momentarily, he stole a glance at her face. Her expression was full of anger and sadness as usual, and her eyes were weighted with so much pain. He felt the bindings pinch around his hand as he clutched it into a fist.

 _Someday, Sango, I will no longer see your frown or the pain in your eyes._ He gritted his teeth and made this silent vow. _I will free us both from the misfortunes that bind us. And when that time comes, we can enjoy laughter that is warmer than the sun._


	2. Haunted

Haunted

No one would dare say Sango was not brave.

She had crawled through her own blood and grave soil to avenge all whom she had lost. She defied Death, snatching back her own life from its bone grip and refusing to let her spirit rest. Even if she lost her body, the knowledge that her family's killer still roamed freely would alone keep her spirit tethered to this world.

The weight of treachery against her kin was too much to leave undone. And she would not let her only living relative stay bound to the one who had caused it all.

Her scar burned, reminding her of the one that stole everything from her. Often she would reach back to touch her scar, fingernails grazing over the marred skin that rippled over her back. It itched in unease. It itched for revenge.

With its pain, she could hear faraway screams of her fallen comrades. The memory of sharp sickles stirred her blood and drowned the light in her brain. Dreams of hollow faces and blood-drained bodies surrounded her, crowding closer to her and then seeping inside her flesh. They did not scare her. She was thankful to see them, rejuvenating her zeal to fight on.

She had always felt them clinging to her, buzzing around her like angry hornets. They moved with her, feeling each blow she made to her enemy and bringing them all closer to redemption. Someday she would give them the finality they deserved. She lived and fought and slept each day for them, and trying to free her brother as well.

This was how she lived, proving that she had more courage than most. After all, she had squirmed from beyond her own grave to be here, to live and perhaps die for her family's honor.


	3. Open and Clench

Open and Clench

 _Open. Close. Open. Flex._

He forgets what it is like to have a hand that is whole, that still has muscles and blood underneath. Instead he only knows that his hand is as good as gone, unnatural and unholy - cursed.

 _Flex. Beads scrape. Rattle, tighten - whisper and malign._

He thinks pensively, flexing the muscles in his upper arm that are still whole. He feels the muscles in his forearm that are real too. But his hand -

The truth is it's not really a hand anymore - it's a marker - a marker for his inevitable end.

It's a truth that he is not whole - and with a slim chance of `not yet'. He is fragmented and continuously cracking - his hand swishing by his side seeping lost time, and opening, flexing and tightening -

And waiting for the quick grab of Death.

One day, then three, then forty - his many days fade into few and time once polished begins to dull.

 _Open. Close. Wait. Clench._

He opens his hand, and Coincidence moves the winds of the outside world. He waits, and inside … the swallow of his finality waits as well.


	4. Stragglers Behind

Stragglers Behind

A blood-red horizon fell over her as she stood - a woman alone inside a cracking wall of unrest.

Scrunching her face, looking forward with old eyes, she was beyond crying for now. The voices of the past shifting through time did little to weaken her, but filled her with vigor instead.

 _The taijiya village, her home, used to be a welcoming, hardy place._

And people used to walk here, fight here, give birth here, and no matter what your skill, no matter your family, it was a place to belong.

 _We were like a pack of wolves - a stronghold where warriors were made and honor was born._

The heavy wind was at her back now. One more stray wolf of a once great stronghold stumbled around aloof, sequestered from the kindred - grasped by a tourniquet of morose.

Unwillingly, he was stripped from her arms - her last tie to family, a final tie to origin.

 _Kohaku ..._

The screams of the dead buzzed on the wings of an errant fly. The blare of vengeance dripped in her ears.


	5. Grave Digger

Grave Digger

The hot summer heat surged through the first layer of her skin like fire. She dug her hands into the earth, mud coating her fingers with sweat and tears. Her cries soon turned inaudible, and the ceramic urn seared her hands as she dug her brother's grave next to her father's. Kohaku was long gone, and there was no jewel to save him - no otherworldly power that would resurrect his earthly form.

She hiccuped, and she placed the urn softly into the hollowed out bed of soil. She stared at it, tears still streaming down her cheeks. The others were not here, respecting her from a distance, and she and her brother were left alone. Before she could move the earth blanket over her brother's remains, she lifted the urn back into her lap again, popping off the lid. Hesitantly, she looked inside one last time, the fresh ash still hot from the funeral.

"Kohaku," she said aloud, her phrase caught by the lonely breeze. She sighed heavily, twisting the lid back onto the urn, relishing in the heat that still radiated onto her hands. "Goodbye."

Closing her eyes, her hands methodically shifted the dirt over the grave. She looked up into the young evening sky. Sighing, the smoke from the funeral pyre was quickly dissipating, the remnants of her sadness fading into the horizon.

Sango bent her head, clasped her hands together and remembered. Loss burned in her heart, firing and glazing into a hardened stone.


	6. Peaceful

Peaceful

"They're asleep," Sango said, waving a fluffy dandelion in front of Kagome's face. Her nose wrinkled, yet she was still deep asleep. She leaned comfortably against Inuyasha's shoulder as he settled against a tree.

"Ah," Miroku said, looking at the duo thoughtfully. "Kagome-sama and Inuyasha-sama are more peaceful when they are sleeping together in contrast to when they are awake."

Sango cocked an eyebrow at him, wondering if he intended to mirror their own awkward relationship. She huffed lightly. "They fight because they like each other." Sango waved the dandelion seedling in the air, and the breeze finally caught it, scattering the seeds. The stars began to shine as dusk settled, and their companions appeared too exhausted to help them set up camp.

"Shouldn't we wake them to help us?" Sango complained, though inwardly she knew it'd be wrong to disturb their peace.

Miroku turned to her and took her hand. Instantly she blushed, but she was wary of the intentions behind his bright smile. "I think we should let them sleep, dear Sango-sama. It would be unjust to disturb them and ruin this quiet night. With Kirara and Shippou asleep too, it looks to be just you and me tonight." His tone was smooth, and he seemed to be moving closer.

Though, in the past, Sango would have flung him aside and given him a physical warning. Instead, she started to lean closer to him teasingly, and spoke in a dangerous yet sultry voice. "Don't get any ideas, Houshi-sama."


	7. Touch of Petals

Touch of Petals

A once-cursed hand ran through her dark hair, his body heat blanketing her.

"I love you." His breath settled on the shell of her ear, and she met his eyes - warm and unwavering, their future burgeoning inside.

His hands trailed down her hips, and she shuddered at his naked touch. Her first time - wooed and romanced as they sprawled over the pink petals in a bed of cherry blossoms.

She moaned with his lips on hers, reaching fervently inside, teasing and tasting her scent. She responded in turn, meeting his mouth with the same gusto, fisting her hands in his dark, untangled hair.

Her body trembled anxiously, but his warm hands against her skin soothed her, lighting fires and expelling fears. She rubbed her legs together, moistening to his every touch. Lightly, his hand explored her below, dipping into her belly button and gently rubbing over her coarse nest of curls. His motions were slow, and it was beginning to feel painful.

"Please, Miroku.” She never thought she'd beg Miroku to do anything.

He trailed kisses over her pulse and down her chest, and she felt her breasts tense at the cool, wet dance of his tongue. She sighed, as his hands cupped her behind, and her mind fell into a daze when he began to maneuver her underneath him. She mewled as he nibbled at her nipples, and she glanced at his body below. Fascinated, she watched as his excitement pulsated before her, rubbing against the warm center between her thighs.

She inhaled harshly as he entered her. He bent his head up, and his whispers returned against her ear.

The music of his promises filled her body, and she rocked her hips. Pain dulled away, replaced by a soft, encompassing pleasure she'd never experienced before.

Suddenly, her energy bounced alive. She put eager lips over his, kissing him hard, steadying her hips to his speed. Then, she made him moan when her strong slayer arms embraced him tightly. She pumped hard over him, and he pushed faster - just what she wanted.

"Oh gods," she cursed, and Miroku grunted, a moan of delight riding with every thrust.

He pushed her against the ground while arching his back, pistoning his hips inside her. Sango let out a ragged cry with stars in her eyes, and with one last heavy thrust, she felt her body turn lax. Inside, she felt warm and full, and Miroku's face contorted in concentration as he spilled inside her. He expelled a content draught of breath and leaned lightly against her. Shaking, Sango wrapped her arms around him, embracing his exhausted body.

He nuzzled his face into her chest and chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Her words were sharper than she intended. She and Miroku were beyond such things.

Miroku propped himself on his elbow and met her sated gaze. "My dear Sango, if all I had to do was defeat Naraku for such a performance, I'll gladly take on the fiend again."


	8. For the Better

For the Better

The nightmares are the first to disappear. In marriage, happiness fills her heart and washes away the dead blood over her brain. There are no more monsters to haunt her, no more ghosts to drag her back into the grave.

He holds her in his arms at night, and she feels warmth that's richer and softer than the flames from an evening campfire. He nuzzles his face into her hair, and she leans in and breathes against his neck. His arms relax around her, and he shifts his head. She breathes again.

Miroku chuckles, and Sango blinks out of her pre-slumber. She looks into his eyes, and he's smiling.

“You're tickling me,” he whispers in that smooth voice that always makes her body weak.

“Sorry,” she bumbles. She shouldn't feel so nervous. They are already married and have been for at least a few seasons. She notices his intense gaze on her, and her cheeks go hot.

He pulls her closer against his chest, and her nose rubs against his ear.

“I didn't tell you to stop, my Sango.” His voice is playful, and Sango feels content and energized.

She breathes against the shell of his ear, and he shudders with a throaty groan.

Suddenly, his frenetic hands dip under her clothes and tug them free, and she sighs into a moan as he draws her in for an early morning kiss. Heat swells between them, and she watches him hovering over her, rising and descending, driving and pulling as he pushes her toward a swift peak. She cries lightly and feels sweat settling over her skin.

She gazes upward, and in his eyes she's reminded that nothing in her life is the same. Her cries are no longer for pain. Her nightmares have long been replaced by peaceful dreams.

The greatest change of all is the man who loves and keeps her, warm and guarded within their home.


	9. Caught and Careful

Caught and Careful

Miroku emerged from the forest rubbing his sore cheek, and Inuyasha looked at him suspiciously as the girls walked behind him, fully dressed and clean from their bath. Sango was laughing loudly, and Kagome was looking down at her hand in amazement.

“Wow, that slap was harder than I intended,” said the girl. Sango waved off her concern with a flick of her hand.

“It was your turn to put the pervert in his place, and he deserved it.” She gave Miroku the evil eye as he turned around to speak. His jaw clamped shut from the sheer intimidation rolling off Sango's face.

“Still, he barely got in a peek. We were already dressed. Isn't that right, Miroku?” Kagome asked with a subtle coyness.

“Ah, well…” He began, but suddenly he was silenced by Sango's sweet, strong palm to his face.

“Tread cautiously when you speak, Houshi-sama,” Sango said warningly; however, he could see amusement alit in her eyes. “Your left cheek could match your right.”

He chuckled nervously. “Kagome-sama is correct,” he spoke against her palm before she drew it away. He saw her shiver and then compose herself. He dared not show his delight when he considered his lips against her hand like a kiss.

He grinned, but not too wolfishly. “You ladies were quick to find me anyway.”

Sango eyed him suspiciously. She didn't like how congratulatory he sounded.


	10. Peacemaking Wives

Peacemaking Wives

Sango's watched curiously as her husband suddenly bolted inside their house and sighed heavily against the front door. She jumped as she heard a succession of thumps outside.

“What's happening?” she asked.

“Inuyasha is mad at me,” her husband answered sheepishly. Sango became suspicious. “He's throwing food at the house.”

She stood up with fury flushing her cheeks. “What did you do now?”

Miroku put up his hands in surrender. “Now, Sango dear. It's only a misunderstanding between male friends.”

“Misunderstanding? What could you possibly say to Inuyasha where he would throw things at our house?” Sango asked angrily.

“Something…about his male anatomy, perhaps? I don't recall,” Miroku said innocently.

“Oh, brother. I'll take care of this,” Sango snorted with annoyance, and she wrestled past her husband and stomped through the front door, dodging a tomato in her wake.

After a little while, the noises stopped. His wife came back with a serene and collected expression.

“What did you say to him?”

“I didn't say anything to _him_ ,” Sango huffed. “I talked to Kagome and she took care of it.”

Miroku nodded with relief awash on his face. “I can only imagine what my dear wife said in my defense.”

“Defense? Don't be silly. We agreed that you two would clean our house,” she said sternly, and Miroku wilted. “And no sex for a week, until you both learn not to feud like silly children.”

“Yes, dear,” Miroku said lamely, and it was the smartest phrase he said all day.


	11. Fireside

Fireside

Everyone was miserable. Blustery snow shut the group inside the inn, and they awaited the first signs of warmth to continue hunting the shards and Naraku. Sango watched as the members of their group had their own restless quirks, many of which that were getting on her nerves.

Inuyasha sat a few steps apart from Kagome, and he scowled as she did her homework. Once in awhile, Shippou would brave annoying him, and the hanyou promptly stopped him with a punch.

Kagome sighed languidly as she read her books. In moments where Inuyasha broke her concentration, she let out a `sit' while still looking at her work. After the Inn rumbled from the spell, he'd swear and fidget.

Miroku, however, was content to shut his eyes and block out the rest of the world.

Since she couldn't, Sango stood up to leave as Kirara followed. She noticed the common room in the front had a fire pit, and she decided to warm up in peace.

Halfway there, she realized Miroku was following her.

“What is it?” she said, turning around, and Miroku looked at her serenely, unbothered by her irritated tone.

“Ah, I thought I would join you by the fire,” he suggested with a smile.

She blew out a huff and walked head, indicating that she didn't care what he did. When they came to the front, they were the only inn guests at the pit. She sat down, and as Miroku sat next to her, she gave him a warning. “Hands to yourself.”

Miroku put up his free hands in surrender and chuckled. “Of course, but are you sure you want that?” Sango grimaced. Well, at least he tried. He added, “It's cold out, and together we could generate some exceptional heat.”

Sango's eyes widened at his audacity. Normally, that deserved a slap, but this time she was faintly amused. Anything was funnier than seeing Inuyasha `sit' all the time.

“Hmm,” she said agreeably, and then she shot him a sly look. “I'm sure we could, but I was trying to get away from the noise, not make more of it.” She turned to the fire, and she could see Miroku's shocked expression in the corner of her eye. She refrained from showing her delight, but it felt good to give him some of his own medicine.

“Sango-sama!” Miroku exclaimed, and she met his eyes, still holding back her smile. “You can't do that to a man on a cold day and get away with it!” Sango inched back cautiously, and Miroku looked as though he wanted to jump her. Uh oh, maybe teasing him wasn't such a good idea.

“Well, I can,” she said challengingly, and she let the smile slip. He chuckled and slid closer to her, and she let him. A cautious arm came around her and she relaxed when his heat mixed with hers.

They watched the fire together, but as Miroku held her, she could hardly feel the flame at all.


	12. Stress Reliever

Stress Reliever

After some commotion, Miroku snuck out to a hot spring for some time alone. He wasn't usually one to lose his temper, but his rowdy kids and Inuyasha were getting on his nerves.

He hated to leave off without including Sango, but he didn't know if he could face her either. Lately, they'd been snapping at each other more than usual.

He dipped his head underwater, and when he surfaced, he froze when he sensed another presence. He jumped when two soft arms embraced him from behind.

“It's just me, Houshi-sama,” Sango whispered, kissing his shoulder. He felt her breasts rub against him, and suddenly this horrible day felt much better.

Slowly, he turned around grinning. “Well, I wasn't expecting visitors.” Miroku leaned closer, and when his mouth covered hers, they melted into each other. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he slid them across the spring and pushed her against a smooth rock.

“Where are the children?” he asked.

“Kagome has them,” Sango said.

“This doesn't seem like you,” he said coyly. Sango blushed and looked away meekly.

“You were upset, so I was worried.” He tightened his embrace, more grateful than aroused.

“I am the luckiest man in the world,” he said, hoping all of his rotten days ended with surprises like this. His wife nodded, and words were replaced with kisses as they enjoyed the rest of their bath.

In the end, Sango had made Miroku forget why he was ever upset in the first place.


	13. Memorial

Memorial

The slayer village is a graveyard, and it will remain that way until another group claims it. Until then, Sango visits often, lighting incense and letting the memories of a different time overtake her.

This time, she brings white roses and lilies for the graves. Her belly is swollen with child, and her new husband walks silently by her side. He has memories of his own, but they'll visit his birthplace at another time.

Sango stares at the house where she grew up, and absently she rubs her belly and thinks about her future. Her father would have been proud of her, and she regrets more than anything that he can't be around to know her child or meet her husband.

She feels Miroku's hand squeeze her shoulder, and he pulls her close and they walk along a row of graves. This place no longer sings with life; it only reminds her of all the things she's lost. It hurts coming here, but she knows she must.

She misses them, but she and Miroku know that it's better to not look back. Sometimes they just can't. She can't forget her roots, where she lived, and the people that shaped her into the woman she is today.

“Come on,” he says, stopping in front of the incense. She's thankful for Miroku. She's sure her father would have liked him.

They kneel and pray, and Sango is relieved that Kohaku isn't among the dead here. With Miroku by her side, she is grateful that she is alive as well.

Sango takes another long look before they leave, and her hand falls to her belly again. She sighs. Yes, they have a chance at a better future, but every once in awhile, it is respectful to remember the defining times of the past.


	14. Future In-Laws

Future In-Laws

“Your daughter is a harlot!”

“Your _son_ takes after his lech of a father, and don't you dare say that about Mika!” Inuyasha stepped up to throw a punch at him, the man he considered his best friend, but the stern voices of their wives stopped him.

“What in the world is going on here?” Sango fumed at them, and the men settled back and glared at each other as their wives scrutinized them.

“I caught _your_ son seducing my daughter,” Inuyasha huffed. “It's your fault, bozu. Mika is a good girl; she'd never rut with your twerp son.”

“How dare you! Your daughter learned her feminine wiles from a different time!” Miroku said, throwing up his hands. “Don't blame me or my son.”

“Hold on just a minute!” Kagome stopped them. Miroku and Inuyasha were astonished she was smiling. Sango was also unbothered by their fighting. “You're _just_ finding out about Mika and Seiji?”

“Um…”

“How long have they been sneaking around?” Inuyasha snarled at her, but Kagome was used to his temper. In fact, she appeared amused by his reaction.

“For about two months now. I already had the talk with Seiji,” Sango said, and Kagome nodded next to her.

“Mika has talked to me. As long as they act responsibly, we're glad they're happy.” Kagome beamed at Sango. “This means our families we'll be joined someday.”

“Accept it,” Sango said cheekily. “Someday you two will be in-laws.”

Suddenly, Miroku and Inuyasha had lost their desire to fight.


	15. Reminder

Reminder

As soon as he enters their house, she pushes him against the wall and slams her lips against his. She pulls at his clothes, and he notices the children are gone, and they're alone.

“What's this?” he asks, after managing to break away from her intense strength.

Sango's eyes are dark and heady, and he suddenly feels stupid for questioning her. He moves in tenderly and gives her a soft kiss, hoping to quell her brutal desire.

She doesn't answer him, and he doesn't press the issue. Soon their clothes are gone, and he discards his curiosity. Who is he to understand a woman's thoughts? He realizes she may have been jealous of him that morning when he conversed with younger village girls, still tittering at him sweetly with attention.

It's silly. His wife has no reason to be jealous; Miroku loves her until they grow old and die together.

She moans as he brings her onto his lap, but she stops him, and suddenly Sango looks at him sternly. “No.” She pushes him on his back, and she squeezes herself over him, and he inhales a deep breath as he feels her warmth constrain him. She dominates; Miroku submits.

If it will ease her troubles and clear up her inadequacies, this is what he will do as her husband.

He pushes and the tension rises inside him. Sango puts him in place and reminds him that she's his wife, but he doesn't mind.

Miroku just lets her ride.


	16. At the End of a Bad Day

At the End of a Bad Day

Miroku's day did not start out well.

All day misfortune stalked him around like prey, and he felt a continuous shiver down the back of his neck and wondered if supernatural forces were conspiring against him.

It was bad luck that he had underestimated the youkai possessing the village lord's daughter, and much to Inuyasha's amusement, he got sprayed with a nasty defense smell by a skunk youkai. He was lucky, he guessed, to be able to use one of Sango's slayer pellets to counteract the smell. (That is if you liked smelling like onions all day long.)

It was bad luck that one of the village girls remembered his past proposal and wished to keep the bargain, and though he racked his brain trying to place her from his past, it did not matter when he saw the disapproving look on Inuyasha's face. Only a bribe for food and help with chores had prevented the hanyou from storming back and telling his wife.

In all his bad luck, Miroku admitted to a constant consolation. The sun set and he came home to his wife, and as his children settled around him like warm pillows, he hugged her, just a little tighter and kissed her deeply - inwardly praising his good fortune.

Her touch had driven away all of his demons, no matter how current or how far in his past. He was lucky to have her every day; he knew this, but he was especially thankful on days like today.


	17. Soothe

Soothe

The prayer beads constrict around his hand, but underneath he feels the burn, seeping into his blood and scratching across his nerves. Miroku looks down, makes a strained fist and frowns.

Naraku is laughing - right now; he hears the cacophony of doom echo inside his head. He doesn't have much time left.

Then, before he weeps, a soft hand rests over his curse. In her eyes, he sees the fear, but he also sees something else: determination. She still refuses to give up on him.

Suddenly, his brain lulls into silence. Sango's hope quiets the beast of damnation for now.


	18. Together They Fight

Together They Fight

 

They crouched in the bushes, concealed by the shadows of the forest and the canopy of night. Sango inhaled lightly, and her weapon itched at her side.

Hunting demons was her life, and she fought things that made a normal woman faint at the first encounter.

She wasn't normal, though, and when men would scorn her, women would fear her. Once upon a time it used to bother her - alienate her from others.

Not anymore…

“Are you ready?” Miroku's breath was a soothing comfort against her neck.

When she nodded, they moved swiftly together, ready for the next battle.


	19. Her Old Life

Her Old Life

Sango remembered the time when she was fifteen years old. Her body was awkward and beginning to change into the solid shape of a warrior woman. She stood by her father's side with her back straight and her head held proudly as they surveyed the village under attack. The frightened people looked at them strangely yet hopefully, and the son of the village ruler stared at her in horror, for his perception of delicate women was instantly shattered when he laid eyes on her.

Her family saved that village, and with her killing blow to the demon, she protected that boy who first judged and feared her. It didn't matter; she enjoyed saving lives, and she loved what she was born to do.

Years later, she noticed the changes in her life. Her husband accepted her as a slayer and a woman, loving her more every day. Her children took after them both, and as they grew, Miroku and Sango passed along their legacies.

“Do you miss it?” Miroku asked, and she smiled warmly in thought. Some days she missed the thrill, the adrenaline, and the moment when her bone weapon cut into flesh. She missed saving people and challenging their prejudices about who she was.

But in the end, her family was avenged, and she didn't need to save anyone anymore. Ultimately, she saved the one person who meant everything to her, the one person who gave her a chance for a new life.

She turned around toward her husband and kissed his chin. “Sometimes,” she answered honestly, “but I enjoy what I'm doing now. This is what I'm meant to do.”

He stared at her, his silence pressing her to continue. She met his gaze and finally answered in a satisfied tone, “I'm meant to be with you.”


	20. Still a Slayer

Still a Slayer

The men in the village whispered about her.

They said she’d gone soft - settled down, had children and wasn’t a warrior anymore.

 _“That’ll happen to young women; eventually they know their place,” said one._

It angered her. (She still knew ten or more different ways to kill a man.)

 _“Probably can’t even lift that weapon anymore.”_

So proving them wrong, her husband watched her curiously (empty-handed) as Sango hefted Hiraikotsu over her shoulder and hugged a laundry basket with her other arm.

The villagers watched her - _speechless_ \- while they both walked past them toward the nearest spring.


	21. Thinking the Worst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Written for the "Smile" challenge at mirsan_fics on Livejournal. Word Count: 250. Pairing: Miroku/Sango.

When Sango returned to the front of their house, Miroku was smiling.

She didn't trust that smile, not for a moment. She'd been married to him long enough to know his looks. This one spoke only of trouble. His lips were thin and wide, and his expression was so cheerful his eyes closed into devious slits.

At first, she thought the worst. She couldn't help it. Perhaps Miroku was hiding something; he did something bad, something she wouldn't approve of where a fight was inevitable. It could be her worst fear.

(Not another woman. Couldn't be - even though it seemed they were getting younger and prettier than her by the day.)

"What are you smiling about?" Her tone was slightly biting. She'd probably regret it.

"You'll see," he said beaming, and the way he was hovering in front of the door, she knew the revelation was inside.

Sango cautiously dipped inside, only to be surprised at the silence. While she was gone at the hot spring with Kagome, Miroku had successfully put the children to sleep. (They'd been a terror all day, which was why Sango had left to relax in the spring in the first place.)

"Amazing," she said, turning to him. He looked at her, perhaps awaiting an apology for her terrible thoughts. Instead of charitable satisfaction, she pursed her lips into a cheeky grin herself. "So you can be useful, Houshi-sama."

By her husband's fading smile, she realized that wasn't quite the reaction he had wanted.


	22. At First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Written for mirsan_fics for the "hurt" theme at Livejournal. Word Count: 250. Rated M. Pairing: Miroku/Sango. Warning: mature situations.

As expected, it hurts the first time.

It's not as bad as Sango has imagined. She remembers the day when she's talked with Kagome about it in great, frightening detail - about that horrible pinch and then the blood.

To think blood can come from something as lovely as this. (She's seen blood gush from dismembered limbs, entrails and gashes to the head.)

She hates how such thoughts intrude on her; this isn't the time.

He's gentle with her. He's so warm hovering over her body that she doesn't even mind the cold earth against her back. (Their discarded wedding clothes have shifted as they roll around in the grass.)

When he kisses her, it's almost a perfect distraction as he covers his body over hers, and she feels their limbs sliding together, rising, wanting - pushing and pulling for that inevitable slip.

It's awkward. Miroku is not as smooth as he's claimed. Or, he's so filled with desire he can't help himself. His hands go everywhere, searching, claiming her as his. She delights in his exploration; she can no longer control the little sounds escaping her lips when he's not kissing her. His fingers grace the heat between her thighs, and she arches toward him.

They move; he finds her - fills her, and it hurts. She gasps, but she doesn't allow him to stop. It doesn't hurt that _much_.

When he moves again - a steady rhythm - she hardly even notices it. He feels way too wonderful.


	23. One Little Chore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Written for the "reason" challenge a misran_fics at Livejournal. Word Count: 250. Rated: G. Pairing: Miroku/Sango. Post-Manga.

Sango has gladly adjusted to her new roles as mother and housewife, and she has learned to put up with a lot from her children and her husband. Mostly, she deals with minor annoyances, but it's definitely better than fighting impossibly powerful youkai and watching people die.

Still, her patience is much the same, and like anyone, it runs thin. Miroku settles into their comfortable life with ease. After all, he's the bread winner, and perhaps this notion causes him to believe he can get away with almost anything.

Like... discarding his robes onto the floor after a hot, exhausting day with Inuyasha, while he saunters around the house in nothing but his undergarments. Well, he earns his reward, she supposes.

But what is the reason his robes stay on the floor next to the laundry barrel for the entire day? Sango cleans around it, hoping Miroku will get the hint. He does not.

She glares at the offending robes, her eye twitching as her temper rises. He's done this many times before, and each time it grates on her nerves. Hasn't she done enough that he can't do this simple thing and put his robe in the barrel with the rest?

Finally, he senses her anger. She meets his inquiring eyes with a glare that could evaporate a thousand youkai. He follows her glance to the pile and then back at him. Ah, he sees it!

Then, she watches in commanding triumph as he cleans up his own mess.


	24. Damned If You Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miroku just can't do anything right, even when he tries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the "catch" theme at mirsan_fics on Livejournal.

Today, Miroku just couldn't catch a break.

Pretty much every female presence he encountered on their journey gravitated to him like bears to honey, and though in the past he would have welcomed such attention, right now was not a good time.

Especially when he'd been trying to keep his word to Sango and not proposition other girls in front of her. Or make her jealous. Or make her angry enough to bludgeon him over the head with Hiraikotsu.

But of course, he couldn't be _unfriendly_. It wasn't his nature, and he was a monk after all. So what if he was more than willing to write out some charms for a gaggle of young ladies that happened by their group and saw that he was a simple monk, thus instantly pouncing on him? (Inuyasha's eye-rolling didn't help, nor did Kagome's hard judgmental stare.)

He had to oblige them; it was his _duty_ as a monk. So he did, and he behaved as maturely and properly as he could toward these young women, and when they shrieked with happiness, he couldn't help but brave a look at Sango. Consequently, with his luck, she was seething at him as expected.

Yes, he couldn't catch a break, and so today would be another day where he'd have to dig himself out of that never ending abyss to win a tiny bit of Sango's favor.

But at least, he thought, Sango was definitely worth the effort.


	25. Support

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She tries to unburden him of her gloomy presence, but he refuses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for MirSan Week on Tumblr for "Favorite MirSan episode". This is for Episode 3 of the Final Act. One of my favorite moments.

Sango’s heart thrums with a heavy weight. Kohaku has left, and knowing that his purpose is to give up his jewel shard - the one thing keeping him alive - pains her, and she feels a sour ache in her chest at knowing his final day will come.

The thought almost makes her feel alone - _almost_ , as Mirkou sits by her side, his presence is the only warmth keeping her from falling over in tears. Instead, she gazes out into the vast rolling landscape. The birds sing contently around them, knowing none of her burdens and going on with their little lives. She tries to find enjoyment from the cool air and the late afternoon sunlight. A moment of peace amidst this beautiful day is a transient balm to her thoughts.

But she’s so tired. So very very tired of this whole nightmare - from start to finish, all at the hands of Naraku. She’s weary of losing her brother over and over again. She doesn’t know if she can bear it this time. The only cure to all the pain is to give into this numb ache, this exhaustion from fighting and never really winning. Losing Kohaku would be a battle lost for her, even though it may win the war for everyone else.

Sango understands her brother’s intentions, but as his sister she can’t help be selfish. She tries not to give fire to those thoughts, and instead she attempts to unburden Miroku of her gloom.

First, she apologizes. “I’m sorry for being so sluggish,” she says. She can feel him shift toward her on the grass. She enjoys his body next to hers, the comfort he offers by just being next to her. 

She feels, however, Miroku doesn’t deserve her poor mood. Maybe she should be alone. 

She suggests perhaps he find distraction somewhere else - though, not with _someone_ else, she clarifies. 

She should expect his response. He’s not going anywhere, and he’s staying by her side. His support warms the dull ache just a little, and she feels grateful. 

He leans closer, and she listens to his words as fine endearments when he stresses that by her side is where he needs to be. She doubts, for a second, that maybe this Miroku isn’t really _her_ Miroku, but rather a fox in disguise. She feels slightly ashamed for doubting him, but she has to check.

She slides her arm around him, moving in for an embrace. Instead, her hand delicately travels down the back of his robe to his bottom. Well, she muses, there’s no fox tail there. So, this is Houshi-sama after all.

He’s surprised, to be sure, and when she gives her meaning she can’t help but share in his embarrassment. She embraces him closer, wishing for a longer moment. If only they could stay like this for awhile, and then maybe her troubles will go away. Perhaps unseen, Miroku’s warmth and loyalty will keep her demons at bay.

She feels him lean closer, and as they snuggle she chuckles. She’s very glad that it is him.

And secretly, she thinks, she is also happy to give him a taste of his own medicine for once. She would never complain at having an excuse to touch him, either.


End file.
